Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people
underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality
whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not
condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real
world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm
disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really
fucking stupid. I don't own any of the many intellectual property holders'
characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes
above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise
dislike, the content.

Additional Credit: The plot of this story came from Phantom on the CSSA
forums where I lurk. I contacted Phantom through email to discuss many
aspects of this story and gained a lot of useful input as well as the main
plot from his forum post. Quite frankly, without phantom this story would
not exist.

Description: The ultimate hunter comes to Earth to hunt, defeat, rape and
take skull trophies from five of Earth's greatest female warriors in a single
night: Deadly Little Miho, Natalie Cook, Beatrix Kiddo, Lara Croft and Agent
Paris Hilton. Can he succeed?

It wasn't far off midnight in Los Angles when the big black truck pulled up
in a lonely parking lot. Paris had been working solidly, reviewing all the
information available. She spent some time looking at the emailed close up
pictures of Natalie Cook's gaping cunt, Miho's lacerated breasts, fingering
herself idly. She found the post rape scenes intoxicatingly arousing.

Only years of training, dedication to duty and the strong thought that this
alien freak might be gunning for her as well kept her mind on the job. A
decade or so previously a shadowy government agency had developed a pheromone
detection network, OWLF, to try and track one of the species through the
city. The whole mission had been FUBARed, but they'd at least gained valuable
new readings to help them refine and expand the technology.

They had a rough pattern of the hunter's movements mapped and, following the
discovery of the Mushroom Kingdom massacre, enough data for the predictive
computers and agency statisticians to extrapolate the next likely targets.
Paris felt her pussy twitch as she read her own name on the list. The
agency's emergency audits had found evidence of their own files being hacked
from sources that didn't appear to originate anywhere on Earth.

There were other notes and theories; that the creature was breaking from the
species' usual pattern and trying to hit all his targets in one night. That
the rape victims - seen as the main targets - had all been highly skilled
badass bitches, rather than the usual "anyone with a weapon," pattern.

Paris had pulled all the staff she could get to trail or observe likely
targets. She had terrified agency typists and sleepy secretaries on stake
outs through the hot city, alongside the usual agency sentries and look-outs.
At least one of the staked out women, an ex-government agent called Charlie
Baltimore, had noticed the first guy trailing her and beaten him unconscious.
There were trucks like the one Paris sat in carrying roving squads of agents
briefed on the aliens capabilities. They were to respond quickly if any of
the posted lookouts missed reporting in regularly, or if they saw anything
at all suspicious.

However, based on the creature's mapped trail through the city he'd taken
time and distance between targets into consideration as well as their ability
to give him a good fight. The mathematicians had put it all together and told
Paris the most likely next target was the English archaeologist and
adventurer Lara Croft, who was investigating lost treasure at the behest of
Wayland Industries.

The plan was pretty simple; while the rest kept tabs on other possible
targets, Paris would herself lead a handpicked squad to watch over Lara Croft
and the Wayland Industries building, with the new and improved pheromone
detectors in the truck telling them if the alien so much as came close.

An email came through attached to the digital photos from the scene of the
Mushroom Kingdom Inc. Massacre. The assassin, identified as `The Bride,'
after some shit over in Texas years earlier, had apparently held been against
a wall while the hunter stuffed her ass.

Paris pushed her hand under the hem of her short skirt and slid two fingers
into her own pussy as she read through the report attached to the photos. She
pushed her laptop to one side - benches ran along each side of the truck with
a fairly wide path down the middle - and started to play with her breasts.
The back of the van was physically cut off from the front except for a small
grill, but a screen in the dashboard showed the appreciative driver
everything as Paris urgently tugged her skirt up and rubbed her snatch
harder. He started to unzip himself when someone banged on the rear doors.

"Shit!" Paris cursed, tugging her skirt down to her thighs. She sucked the
sweet juice from her fingers and looked out through the tinted rear window.
The squad had assembled. She felt frustrated and cheated of her climax, while
she was sure her face was flushed red. It was her own damn fault for putting
her pleasure above the mission. She sighed heavily, opened the rear doors
and stepped out.

Paris had specially chosen every member of the squad from the very best
available to the agency. Some of them knew they were working for the agency,
some of them just for a branch of the US government - like the two highly
rated Special Forces soldiers she'd discovered were staying in the city for
some military shit. Some of them had even worked together before. There were
seven men and one woman in the small squad.

They had all been called to assemble in the parking lot through whatever
passed as emergency channels for them, because Paris assumed if they all went
to Wayland Industries as individuals to assemble, the hunter could wait and
take them down one at a time if he was there.

"I'm Agent Hilton. You're all now under my command as per your orders. Okay,
people. We wasted enough time already waiting to pick you all up. Get in the
damn truck, I'll catch you up on anything you need to know about your
briefing on the way."

Paris's voice was authoritative, and had none of the cute if airheaded ums
and ahs she sometimes portrayed. The shock value of seeing Paris Hilton of
all people come out of the truck and bark orders was high. Only those
soldiers who'd worked for the agency before and knew to expect unexpected
and implausible events started to move.

Amongst the others, the only woman found her voice first and spoke up,

"What the fuck is this? Is this some MTV punk'd shit?"

Paris's frustration from being denied her fingering orgasm - along with the
time factors - meant her patience was pretty short. She turned towards a
woman she from her file to be Lt Sonya Blade, US Special Forces (there being
no outworld to investigate in that universe). She was actually seventh or
eighth most likely target of the alien according to the egg heads, due to her
exceptional combat abilities.

"Lt Blade, don't question orders, `k? More than most nights, we really don't
have time for this shit."

"Fuck you, Hilton. This celebrity crap gnaws my tits off. I had my first
fucking date in a month tonight and the bastard hadn't got scared of me, or
even made excuses and left. and I get called in for America's Funniest
Special Ops Missions live on Fox with a fuckwit like you! I should've known
it was horseshit when I got the briefing document about a fucking martian
being loose in the city! Take your cameras and sho-"

Paris let her go on for a bit, mostly wondering how the hell the woman became
an officer. She interrupted Sonya with an utterly unexpected but devastating
uppercut. Blade didn't even have time to think about blocking. Blood and
teeth flew out from Sonya's mouth as she landed on her ass. Paris shook her
hand, irritated to see she'd skinned her knuckles on the muscular woman's
jaw. `Should've left the gloves on,' she thought.

"Everybody on this mission is expendable. But you're just like totally
annoying and you have really awful hair. My dog Tinkerbelle has better hair
than you. Now pretty please, get in the fucking truck. All of you."

The rest complied readily, but Blade was pissed. She wasn't going to have
people saying she was sucker punched by Paris fucking Hilton. While the rest
of the squad sat on the benches in the back, Paris jumped in and moved along
the middle to reclaim her laptop, which was still open on a high res photo
of Beatrix Kiddo's gaping ass. Blade rose up and followed her into the
confined space. Eyes glittering with angle, Sonya Blade spat blood and
tackled Paris from behind.

The rear doors were pulled shut, which the driver took as his signal to
drive. He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. There were
signs of some kind of trouble in the back on the monitor screen, but he had
to pay attention to driving.

"Fucking Bitch!" The butch blonde's weight carried Paris down the floor
between seated squad's rows of legs - three pairs on one side, four on the
other. The truck was wide, but Paris still felt the toes of the men's boots
pressed against her face and the back of her head when she twisted it
sideways. One of them smelled like he'd trodden in something pretty bad.

"None of you men get involved! That's an order!" Paris shouted, feeling she
had to regain control of the solider herself to retain authority over the
men. They were more than happy to obey and watch the developing catfight
during the journey.

Sonya was still refusing to believe Paris could possibly be a threat to her.
Her tits were pressed into the woman's back and she had her arms wrapped
tightly around Paris's chest. As she tried to lock in a painful hold and make
the celebrity bitch squeal, she wasn't as cautious as she should have been.
Paris slammed her head back snake-fast and rhino-hard. She was pleased to
hear and feel the crunch of Sonya's nose against the back of her skull.
Paris's long blonde hair did nothing to soften the blow of bone to cartilage.

Sonya's grip loosened, so Paris twisted around beneath until she faced her.
The women's breasts were pressed tightly together through their tops, Bood
ran heavily from Blade's nose while she blinked and tried to regain her hold.
Paris brought her knee up hard into the other woman's cunt. Sonya grunted
sexily, and her grip loosened further. Paris kneed her again, grinding her
toned leg hard into the soft crotch of Blade's combat trousers. Paris got her
head up, twisted it sideways and bit into Sonya's broken nose. She ignored
the blood draining into her mouth as she wrenched her head straight and made
the solder scream.

Sonya's miscalculation had left her in agony, while Paris was getting more
and more turned on. She flipped Sonya onto her back and roughly kissed the
butch woman's bloody mouth, before spitting painfully stinging blood into
Sonya's eyes.

Blade was really pissed off; her cunt hurt, her broken nose really hurt, her
jaw hurt some and her eyes really stung. She hadn't even got a good hit in
on the heiress, although she was quickly re-evaluating the celebrity's
abilities. The seven guys watched lustily as Paris tore open Sonya's top,
pushed up her sports bra, and roughly groped the butch blonde's tits.

"You fucking army whore! You worthless piece of fuckmeat! When I give a
fucking order, you fucking obey me!"

Paris punctuated each word with a hard slap to Sonya's breasts, hitting first
one and then the other. She left perfect handprints on the jiggling titflesh
before leaning down and biting one of Sonya's nipples. The little nubs were
sticking out hard. Sonya kept trying to twist away, but found to her shock
that Paris had her well pinned. Each counter-blow was easily blocked by
Paris, who batted Sonya's fists away contemptuously while gnawing lightly on
Sonya's firm breasts. As soon as one of the guys had the idea of pulling out
his dick, the other six followed. The soldiers sat jerking their cocks while
Paris twisted around and sat on Sonya's face. She gripped the pretty woman's
head hard between her thighs and pulled up her short skirt.

Sonya felt totally humiliated. She was never going to live it down. Paris
Hilton was a better wrestler and a dirtier fighter than her. Paris Hilton!
She wept stinging tears of shame and pain as she began to service Paris'
dripping wet snatch. Paris moaned, and grabbed her own tits through her top.
A pothole in the road bumped the truck and forced Sonya's broken nose roughly
against Paris. The lieutenant's muffled scream was almost enough to make
Paris cum.

"You're a good little cuntlicking whore, Sonya," she moaned, "You deserve a
reward."

Paris looked around the seven men jerking off on the benches to either side
of the truck. Her eyes settled on the muscular black Special Forces officer,
Major Jackson `Jax' Briggs, whose dick had to be at least ten inches. Paris
felt like trying it herself, but instead said,

"Nice weapon soldier. Get down there and open up this bitch!"

Sonya protested strongly from between Paris's bucking hips. The piteous
pleading left no doubt that anybody fucking Sonya would be sexually
assaulting her right alongside Paris. Orders were orders though and the most
important order was that none of them would be able to discuss any aspect of
this mission with anyone afterwards on pain of death. Jax had wanted a chance
to fuck his blonde subordinate for ages, but she'd never been interested in
black men.

Jax was Sonya's immediate superior under normal circumstances and she might
have expected him to stand up for her. What she expected and whom she was
interested in didn't matter to Jax as he quickly dropped his pants before
tugging off her combat pants and boots, followed by her camo-pattern panties.
Sonya was strong - Jax was stronger. He bent her legs down back painfully and
began to rape the butch blonde's hairy cunt with ten hard inches of black
cock.

"Shit, I always knew Sonya was a dyke - you've got her wetter than monsoon
season down here, Agent Hilton!"

Sonya's humiliation deepened; Jax was right about her hot wet cunt, it
swallowed even his big dick with little resistance. After just a few strokes
his balls were slapping into her thick bush. Sonya's body was really turned
on, and her increasing revulsion and shame only made it worse. The pain of
her beating by Paris was mixing in with the pleasure of Jax's big dick
stretching and pounding her and Paris's hands which were expertly
manipulating her breasts. Paris rocked from explosive orgasm to orgasm as
Sonya writhed beneath her, swallowing cunt juice and breathing whenever she
could.

Jax felt Sonya Blade's cunt suddenly tighten pleasurably about his shaft. Hot
cunt juice splashed wetly out around his cock, and he laughed,

"Bitch just came!"

He pulled out and jerked his hard cock into spraying thick sperm as far as
Sonya's bruised tits, while the rest splashed over her sculpted six pack
stomach. Paris pulled her hands away as the other guys stood in the fast
moving van and managed to keep balance long enough to spray another six
heavy loads across Sonya Blade's sweaty black and blue marked breasts and
anywhere else they could reach.

Sonya wept as she felt the hot cum rain down across her body. These men, even
another woman, saw her as nothing more than communal fuckmeat - and since she
came while being raped, she thought they were right. Paris leaned forward to
lick Jax's big dick clean of his spunk and Sonya's cuntjuice. Jax held it out
and bucked it forward for her as she licked her agile tongue down his shaft
with long, appreciative slurps.

"We're at Wayland Industries, people. Stake out hasn't reported anything
strange and has made every check in, and Wayland's security people are still
in the guard post at the gate."

The squad quickly put their dicks away and got their gear and weapons
together. Paris shifted back off of Sonya's face and leaned down next to her
ear. She smelt her own cunt strongly across the woman's face as she started
to speak quickly,